Choices and Consequences

Batsnumbereleven

Story Summary:
Harry's heading back to Privet Drive for the summer after his fifth year. He's tired of being angry with the world, and now it's time for him to change his attitude. He might have lost Sirius, and have had the prophecy thrust upon him, but there are still people who want to help him, and who understand the burden he carries. He has to take responsibility for his life and find a way to defeat Voldemort. (Mild H/G)

Chapter 06

Chapter Summary:
Harry has a long chat with Tonks, a confrontation with his relatives, and a strange man comes to his rescue. He learns a little bit about wizarding politics and gets a surprise when he reads the Prophet.
Posted:
09/27/2005
Hits:
4,157
Author's Note:
Thanks once again to Jner for her assistance.

Chapter 6

Harry slept well that night, but woke the next morning to a soft tapping at the windowpane. He had left the window closed during the night so that the torrential rain that accompanied the storm didn't ruin the bedroom carpet; but of course this meant that when Hedwig returned from her deliveries she had been unable to get into the house. It was the sound of her tapping at the window that had awoken him.

Harry opened the window and let Hedwig in, taking a brief moment to look out at the blue sky and take a deep breath of the crisp but faintly warm atmosphere that traditionally followed a summer thunderstorm. It felt early in the morning, and when he turned to the alarm clock by his bed, Harry was a little surprised to find that it was only six o'clock. Despite the rude awakening, he felt fit and fresh from a solid night's sleep and eager to tackle the day ahead.

He detached the letter that Hedwig was carrying and looked at the envelope. The handwriting was distinctly feminine, and Harry assumed correctly that the letter was from Luna, since he had only recently spoken to Hermione on the telephone and had received a letter from Ginny the previous evening. Besides which, he would have recognised either of their handwriting, and he didn't know of any other girls that were likely to write to him directly.

Hedwig glided gently over to her perch where she proceeded to administer the second rude awakening of the morning, deliberately disturbing Pig so that she could get to her "rightful place" on the perch. Pig squawked somewhat, an unusual sound for an owl, but with Hedwig's beady gaze and disapproving look, thought better of retaliating and instead fluttered out of the still-open window.

Luna's letter was long and rambling. She talked about her trip to Sweden with her father to try and track down the infamous Crumple-horned Snorkack, and all the preparations they had needed to make for their journey. She expressed her surprise at seeing Hedwig arrive with a letter for her. The previous letter had apparently arrived before they had left Britain and to see Hedwig turn up in Scandinavia, looking somewhat tired and bewildered had been a bit of a shock.

Harry reached over to Hedwig and stroked her gently. "Poor thing," he said, "did you get lost trying to find Luna?"

Hedwig gave him an extraordinary look, seeming to mix severe affront at the thought that she would get lost with such an important delivery, with an expression of guilt that identified that was exactly what had happened.

Harry chuckled at the expression, and got some owl treats out for the white bird, affectionately ruffling her feathers.

"That's okay. You made it, and you're back now."

Hedwig appeared to accept this as both reward and apology and attacked her owl treat with gusto, turning her back on Harry.

He picked up Luna's letter again and read the remainder of what she had to say. It looked as though they were going to be in Sweden for another two to three weeks before returning to England - apparently her father couldn't stay away from his newspaper any longer than that, and would have to be back in the office by the start of August. Harry figured that, rather than sending Hedwig out to Northern Europe again, any news he had for Luna would wait until she was back in the country.

The rest of the letter asked about his OWL results: whether he had received them yet and if the grades were any good, and the hope that they could all meet up again on the Hogwarts Express in September.

Checking the time again, Harry decided to make use of the bathroom whilst the Dursleys were all still sleeping. After a quiet shower and breakfast, he took his keep-fit book out into the back garden where the sun was starting to warm up the cool morning air, and practiced some of the exercises - especially those that he needed more space for than he had use of in his bedroom, or were likely to make the floorboards bounce and incur the wrath of his aunt and uncle.

He had been working on some of the more physical exercises for around three-quarters of an hour and had built up something of a sweat, when a voice broke through his concentration.

"Oi! What ya doin', Harry?"

Harry started slightly from his position on the back lawn where he had been attempting some sit-ups. He had forgotten that Tonks was supposed to be meeting him that morning.

"You're up and about early this morning," the young Auror noted, twirling the ends of her long black hair in her fingers as she spoke. "What's up - couldn't sleep? Or have you already heard the news?" she asked.

"What news is that then?"

"It's all over this morning's Daily Prophet," she replied.

Harry grimaced at the mention of the newspaper that had spent the previous year belittling him and making him out to be a crazed lunatic.

"I've given up reading the Prophet," he advised. "It's just Fudge's mouthpiece."

"Not anymore," Tonks told him. "Here, have a look at this!"

Tonks thrust a copy of that morning's Prophet into his hands, and Harry immediately understood what she meant.

"FUDGE LOSES NO-CONFIDENCE VOTE!" proclaimed the front page headline, which featured a large picture of the Wizengamot on their feet in uproar, waving their fists and shouting at Fudge, who was stood on a dais in the background.

'Good job the pictures only move, and don't talk as well,' Harry thought as he read the article.

The story detailed how, following the "Daily Prophet's recent exclusive scoop" detailing the return of Lord Voldemort (or "You-Know-Who", as the Prophet continued to refer to him), several of the Ministry's senior departmental heads had brought to light some of the Minister's more dodgy dealings, and had asked the Wizengamot to bring the motion of no-confidence forward. Whilst the evidence was not totally convincing, enough suspicion over his actions had been raised for the Wizengamot to order a full investigation into the Minister's conduct over the past few years and this had led to his loss of the no-confidence vote.

The article explained that while this didn't mean that Fudge was out of office, according to the protocol for the election of a Minister for Magic he was forced to seek re-election. Given that the return of Voldemort was now widely accepted as fact rather than the hallucinations of a raving schoolboy, there was a fair chance that someone with a little more backbone might stand against him for the post.

Harry smiled in pleasure at the thought of Fudge being questioned by the Wizengamot, a position that Harry himself had occupied eleven months previously, but brought his mind back to more pertinent matters; those he thought could be rather important over the next few days.

"So who's going to stand against Fudge, then?" he asked Tonks who had sat down on the grass next to Harry and waited patiently as he read the article.

"Well, the Prophet thinks that Amelia Bones is likely to be nominated by some of the other department heads, but it's not clear whether she will accept the nomination."

"Anyone else?"

"No one that anybody knows about, Harry," Tonks stated firmly.

Harry knew this to mean that the Order did have someone in mind, but no doubt it would be sensitive information. He looked at Tonks with scrunched up eyes and ventured a few thoughts.

"It would have to be someone who could gather popular support together, someone who has stood up for what is right, rather than necessarily what is popular," he mused.

"It's not Dumbledore, Harry, so stop trying to lead me into telling you."

"Oh Tonks!" Harry exclaimed, "that's marvellous. Why didn't you tell me you were planning a career in politics? You'd be such a cool Minister of Magic!"

She looked at him with a distasteful expression on her face.

"Don't even joke about it, Harry. I couldn't think of a worse job if I tried. Besides, you're missing the point: it's not the Minister's humbling that's the big news. Check out the second page."

Harry was confused now, but did as Tonks asked of him and turned to the inside front page of the newspaper to a shocking revelation.

"POTTER TO BE AWARDED ORDER OF MERLIN," the headline screamed out at him, whilst the text of the article repeated portions of his interview with Rita Skeeter from earlier in the year and talked about how brave he was, and how he had put his life on the line for the benefit of the whole of the wizarding world.

Much of the article was, of course, old news, but the point that Harry did note was that it hadn't actually been decided that he was to receive the honour, it was merely rumoured to be under consideration.

"Damn journalists," Harry spat. "So tell me, Tonks, why should I care that I'm supposedly being awarded the Order of Merlin?"

Tonks scrutinised him closely for a moment, then decided to let him work it out for himself.

"If I tell you that the two stories might be linked...." she suggested.

Harry thought for a few seconds, then came to a startling realisation.

"You mean Fudge is trying to wriggle out of the hole he's dug himself by putting me up for the award?" he asked.

"I suspect it's even more that that, Harry," Tonks told him sadly. "I expect that by awarding you the Order of Merlin, Fudge expects that you'll back his campaign for re-election."

Harry gave her a sour look. "What difference is that going to make?"

"You already said it yourself. The public will want to back a talismanic figure, one that can command public approval; someone who has stood up for what's right, rather than what would be popular; someone who has already taken the fight to the Dark Lord. In other words: you.

"The only problem is that you are too young to be nominated for the post, not to mention that you need to finish your education. If you stood as a candidate you'd be certain to win, but my point is that if you were even to publicly announce your support for a particular candidate, I can almost guarantee they would be elected."

This troubled Harry. He could see why people might want to support him after the results of his very first encounter with Voldemort, but he couldn't believe that they would simply follow the candidate he endorsed because he, Harry Potter, had endorsed that person, let alone that they would even consider making him Minster of Magic.

"But, Tonks-" he began.

"Harry, it's not something you should worry about for now. Well, except that I wouldn't advise you going out of your way to support any particular candidate at this stage. We'll work out what to do about the Order of Merlin if it gets to the point that you are offered the honour."

"Okay, Tonks, if you say so. I can't begin to understand all this."

"See, now you understand why I hate politics!"

"That's not funny. I'm not old enough to deal with this."

"Okay Harry, we're now heading towards territory that Dumbledore wanted me to cover with you anyway, so why don't we take this as a starting point?

"One of the reasons that people will support you is because you have faced Voldemort and survived," Tonks looked bleak as she spat the name out, but continued regardless, waving off Harry's attempts to interrupt her. "I know you'll say that you had help, or that it was blind luck, or whatever, but I disagree. The reason you survive is because you perform well under pressure.

"I know that doesn't sound like much, but in many cases it's the difference between surviving and dying. It's practically a creed among Aurors. If you can think on your feet and keep your head when it's going to hell in a hand basket all around you, you're in a much better state to evaluate escape options or to come up with spells that save yourself and your companions."

"But it's not something that I do deliberately-" Harry tried to interject, though he was cut off once again.

"Yes it is, Harry," she disagreed with him, "it's a part of your nature, your character. Remus has told me all about your third year and how you were determined to learn the Patronus spell to counteract the effect of the dementors. Your single-minded dedication to the task ensured your survival that year, and again in the Tri-wizard tournament. I heard that you managed to learn the Summoning charm in a very short space of time.

"I've heard enough from Ron, Ginny and Hermione over the last few days to know that the six of you survived against a dozen Death Eaters because of your leadership and the spells you had practiced with them last year."

"I led them all into danger in the first place though," Harry argued.

"I'm sure they disagree, and that they would say they followed you willingly, even Hermione, despite her misgivings about the jaunt in the first place," Tonks countered.

"Well ... I suppose..." Harry muttered under his breath, remembering what his friends had said in their letters.

"So, remember, Dumbledore wanted me to talk to you about your self-confidence, your belief in your abilities. I can't do much in terms of evaluating your magical prowess whilst you're not allowed to do magic, but what I can do is try and get you to identify your strengths and get you to believe that you can do things, probably things you never thought you'd be able to."

"Okay," Harry conceded, "what do you want me to do?"

"I've heard some really wacky stories about you, Harry, so how about you start by telling me about some of them, and I'll ask a few questions as we go along. I heard something from Hermione about a troll in your first year, so why don't you start with that?"

This seemed like an entertaining way to pass the morning, so Harry recounted the story of how he and Ron had saved Hermione from the mountain troll that Quirrell had let into Hogwarts at Hallowe'en five years previously. Tonks broke down into a fit of giggles when he told her about the way Ron had knocked the troll out, and how he had stuck his wand up the troll's nose to distract him.

"Ugh, how gross, troll bogies!" she laughed, unaware that she was echoing Harry's own comment at the time.

"The ironic thing was," Harry reflected, "that Ron used the exact spell that had made him so irritated with Hermione in the first place!"

Tonks asked Harry a few questions about why they had gone after the troll, and then changed tack.

"So what happened with the Philosopher's Stone, then? Dumbledore's always been cagey about what happened with that. I've never been able to get a straight answer out of him"

Harry launched into an extended account of his first year at Hogwarts as a whole, highlighting the clues they had picked up about what Fluffy had been guarding, and all the hints they managed to winkle out of Hagrid. Tonks looked askance at Hagrid's lack of discretion about Fluffy and the dragon egg he had "won"; she muttered incoherently when Harry talked about how they had suspected Snape and listened intently as he told her about the puzzles they had solved to reach the Stone.

After Harry had finished, Tonks again asked a few brief questions to clarify what he had told her.

"You see, Harry, this is the sort of thing that I was talking about earlier. I admit that you had help from Ron and Hermione, although I'm rather suspicious of Dumbledore on the whole, having heard this - it's almost as though the whole thing was matched up with the strengths of the three of you.

"Anyway," she continued, "the point is that once you reached the Mirror of Erised, your ability to perform under pressure came to the fore: you realised what Dumbledore had done with the mirror and why Quirrell or Voldemort could never had obtained the stone from the mirror by themselves; you kept your head when faced with the Dark Lord himself; you were stubborn enough to defy him and to lie about what you saw in the mirror; you had the strength of will to hold onto Quirrell, which kept you alive long enough for Dumbledore to return and rescue you, even though you must have been in horrendous pain."

Harry sat there dumbfounded at Tonks's analysis of the story.

"But ... but ... I did those things because ... well, because ... I had to. It wasn't something I did consciously ... I ... "

"Harry, you went after the Stone in the first place to stop it being used for evil," Tonks said gently. "That was a conscious decision. That's why people see you as a talisman - because, as you so eloquently put it, 'you did what you had to'. Many adults, let alone eleven year olds who hadn't yet completed a year's magical education, would have decided that it was someone else's problem."

"But that's just aiding and abetting evil," Harry protested.

"Exactly. Isn't that why Fudge's refusal to believe that the Dark Lord had returned has been so damaging?

"Now, given that you've shown me what you can do in a pressure situation as an eleven year old, which was far more than the rumours had even suggested, what else have you been up to at Hogwarts that comes under the heading of 'doing what you had to' or 'performing under pressure'?"

Harry blanched at the thought, but having told her about his first year, it seemed natural to go straight on to the problems he'd had in his second year. Still, he thought he might get a little rise out of Tonks by winding her up first.

"Well, what do you know about the Chamber of Secrets, Tonks?" he asked, with a gleam in his eye.

"What, that old story about Salazar Slytherin having a secret chamber in the castle where he kept a dangerous beast? That's just a myth that the pure-bloods have been putting around for centuries to strike fear into Muggle-borns at Hogwarts."

"Nope," Harry said with aplomb. "Been in it, defeated the monster."

Tonks opened her mouth to speak, but somehow couldn't find the words. After a couple of tries, she finally found her voice.

"Ah, come on Harry, I know you've had an eventful life, but that's going too far. You're just winding me up."

Harry shook his head and smirked at her.

"Come on then. Out with it," Tonks demanded, and sat listening in awe as Harry described how he had faced the shade of the 16-year-old Tom Riddle and defeated the basilisk with help from Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, and the sword of Godric Gryffindor.

He made sure to leave out any mention of Ginny's involvement, though Tonks's expression hinted that she knew he was extemporising to protect somebody, but included Hermione's discovery about the basilisk and, to Tonks's amusement, Lockhart's blunder and self-obliviation with Ron's wand.

"Couldn't have happened to a more deserving guy," Tonks commented.

Harry couldn't help but agree, even though he'd had to edit a significant portion of the story. Still, he'd covered enough ground, especially about his fight with the basilisk and his destruction of the magic in Riddle's diary that he hoped she wouldn't notice the parts he'd omitted to tell her.

Despite her amazement at what Harry had accomplished in the Chamber, Tonks had still found several things to point out to Harry about his strengths and the way he had handled himself, particularly the way he had refused to give in to Riddle, and had stood to fight the basilisk with such courage, as well as the intuition that had led him to use the basilisk fang to destroy Riddle's diary.

"See," she concluded, "You've got all these things going for you, it's no wonder half the teenage witches in the country are swooning every time they see your picture in the paper. Even though they don't know half of the things you've done or the horrors and agonies you've had to endure - yes, I read your interview in the Quibbler - you're still a hero to them."

Harry formulated an expression of distaste at the thought of the sort of attention that it was likely to generate, especially now that he had been proven right all along. His face went red in embarrassment.

"The last thing I need is a group of girls giggling at me," he muttered, "I saw what they were like with Krum back in fourth year."

"Ah, but Harry, it gives you the opportunity to take your pick of the finest female companionship that Britain has to offer. Surely you can see the benefits of having so much choice available to you?" she teased him.

He made a face in response. "I don't exactly have the magic touch when it comes to girls, Tonks. I've absolutely no idea what to do or say, even when I do decide that I like a pretty girl." He thought back to his disastrous fleeting relationship with Cho the previous year.

"You don't seem to have any problems talking to me," Tonks noted.

Harry went even redder at this and muttered something that Tonks couldn't quite catch.

"Sorry, Harry, what was that?" she enquired, knowing full well that whatever it was he'd said was likely to have been extremely embarrassing.

Harry glared at her, then looked away, not meeting her eyes as he repeated his comment.

"I said: 'I don't feel under pressure with you.'"

"Harry, look at me!" Tonks commanded. "This is part of your training as well."

Harry looked up in surprise and saw that Tonks was sincere.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Self-confidence, remember? It's the same as being in a pressure situation. You have to be able to train your emotions to react the way you want them to, at least outwardly." She stared at him in astonishment. "Isn't it ironic? You can face up to one of the most powerful dark wizards in history, but a moderately attractive woman can make you so embarrassed that you turn to mush."

"I don't understand. What do you want me to do?"

"Stand up straight and look me in the eye. Tell me how you feel about me."

Harry's mouth gaped open, but he did as she asked, looking her directly in the eye.

"You're great fun to work with and I like your sense of humour, but I never really thought of you as a girl in that sense."

Tonks laughed.

"That wasn't quite what I meant, but it'll do for a start. I'll try not to be offended that you don't think of me as a girl."

Harry started to stutter an apology, but Tonks waved it away.

"No, Harry, don't worry about it. I know what you mean, really. You see me as an adult, an authority figure, rather than a peer, which is understandable. That wasn't quite what I was aiming for, but I can see why that would be your instinctive reaction."

Harry nodded, but still looked a little embarrassed.

"Right let's do this again, but I want you to say what you think of me physically, as a woman".

Now Harry really wanted to find a hole to crawl into before the morning got any more cringe-worthy.

"I can't-"

"Sure you can. You didn't have any trouble talking to me about my arse the other day," Tonks reminded him, "so why not tell me what you really think about it?"

"But I was just joking, Tonks," he replied. "I didn't mean anything by it!"

"Just do it, Harry," Tonks instructed. "You're not going to offend me, whatever you say. I'll tell you why after."

"Okay," Harry replied with a gulp, looking Tonks up and down to get an impression of what he saw. "You're a little tall for me, but you're slender and have some muscle tone. You've got nice-sized breasts and a small bum. I like your hair."

He took a deep breath then released it noisily, glad that was over.

"Much better," Tonks congratulated him. "There are two reasons I'll never be offended by something like that. The first is that whatever someone thinks of you, you should never let it affect your self-esteem - you have to be content with your own body to feel secure, whatever your body shape actually is. What that means is that when someone insults your physical appearance they are basically wasting their time. The second reason is more personal to myself and that's because I'm a metamorphmagus I can assume any human shape that I wish. It just so happens that this is my natural form, today."

Harry looked up at her in surprise, paying a little more attention to her physical appearance that he would normally have done.

"Anyhow, now we've got that out of the way, I should explain that the purpose of the exercise was to get you to face up to a simple teenage fear. I knew you could do it, but you have to realise that you can do it as well. Of course, it's not always as simple as having to get over being embarrassed - you've proven many time, according to my sources that you can overcome your fears - you just have to believe in yourself."

Harry had a question, but he wasn't sure how Tonks would take it.

"Umm ... Tonks ...this might seem like a kinda weird question...."

"Go ahead. As someone once told me: 'there are no stupid questions'."

Harry blew out a breath that he hadn't realise he'd been holding.

"Umm ... what sort of things do you like ... umm ... in a guy?"

Tonks narrowed her eyes at him, and decided to answer his question slightly less directly.

"You're about the right height, but you're a little on the skinny side. If you put on a few pounds of flesh and carried on working out, you'd be pretty close to the sort of size I like. Your eyes are really striking and you've got a nice butt. Your hair's a mess though," she concluded with a smile.

"That wasn't what I asked!" Harry said indignantly, somewhat embarrassed again, now that Tonks had made a direct comparison between him and her 'ideal' guy, and particularly that the comparison had been quite flattering.

"I know, but remember what we're working on here? Knowing how to take a compliment is important as well, and it's something you might have to get used to if you keep getting the sort of female attention that I expect you to," she replied easily.

"Now, do you think we can work on some of those exercises you were doing without you thinking about my 'nice-sized breasts'?" she taunted him.

Harry ignored the teasing, but acknowledged the need to get back to the workouts he'd been doing.

They spent the next hour or so going through the exercises that Harry had been working on. Tonks pointed out ways that he could adapt some of the routines to develop other groups of muscles that would come in handy when duelling or when sneaking around to make them more directly relevant to the situations that Harry might find himself in.

Harry found himself enjoying the session with Tonks, even though she would continually tease him about her 'being a girl' or the size of her breasts. After a while he found that he was becoming a lot more comfortable with the idea of Tonks being female and working so closely with him than he had initially expected.

He was surprised when Tonks called a halt to the session to find that it was nearly one o'clock. He wasn't sure whether it was the speed that the morning had gone that surprised him, or the fact that Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia hadn't disturbed him all morning. Come to think of it, he hadn't even thought about his relatives the whole time Tonks had been there, though he assumed if they had been on the front lawn in view of the neighbours that would have been another thing altogether!

Before she left, Tonks congratulated him on his OWL results, having heard about them from Dumbledore, and once again insisted that he tell her what he thought of her, physically. She had a glint in her eye that made Harry think she was winding him up, but he shrugged his shoulders and elected to play it straight.

He found it much easier the second time, though it did make him much more aware that she was decidedly female. The biggest surprise was when he turned to go back into the house: Tonks caught him by the shoulders and spun him back around to face her.

"Harry, I know you don't get well looked after by these Muggles, but you shouldn't have to go without any comfort at all."

At this she pulled him into a close hug and kissed him on the cheek, but before he could respond, she had pulled away from him.

Harry looked up at her in shock. "What was that for?"

"Don't your friends ever kiss you?" Tonks questioned with a laugh. "And, no, I don't mean Ron!"

Harry thought back to all the times he had spent with friends and could only come up with the thought that Hermione was really his only female friend, and she'd only kissed him once, on the platform at Kings Cross at the end of his fourth year. He said as much, and was met with a look of puzzlement on Tonks's face.

"Well, get used to it," she smiled. "I kiss my friends when I say goodbye."

Harry liked the thought of Tonks being his friend, but she had seen the smile forming on his lips and decided to head off any other thoughts.

"Well now," she warned with a wink. "Don't be getting any ideas here! I'll be back tomorrow, and we'll carry on working on those exercises again. You'll soon be that toned hunk that all the girls are looking for!"

Harry snorted with laughter. "Well if they're looking for a hunk, then they're going to be disappointed."

"But you're the 'famous Harry Potter!'" exclaimed Tonks in mock surprise.

"That's part of the problem. When we had the Yule Ball, I only got asked to the ball because I was 'Harry Potter, Tri-wizard Tournament competitor'. I nearly didn't have a date at all!"

Tonks sniggered. "Well you can tell me about your 'date' tomorrow, and maybe we can find you a proper girlfriend."

He wasn't sure that was necessarily what he wanted right now, but he certainly wasn't going to admit that to Tonks.

"Thanks, I think," he replied, earning himself another odd glance from the Auror, followed by a shake of the head, before she apparated away.

Harry thought about Tonks's words as he made his way leisurely into the kitchen to get something for lunch. The young metamorphmagus had given him a lot to think about, but at least it was something positive. It was nice to know that he had friends that didn't just see him as the "Boy-Who-Lived", but could laugh and joke with him and tease him when they felt like it.

He definitely liked Tonks. She was fun to be around and was easy for Harry to talk to, though he wasn't used to the teasing. It made him think about her more 'as a woman' as she had put it, and Harry half-heartedly mused about what it would be like if Tonks was his girlfriend. He cut that line of thought off fairly rapidly though. After all, he was sure that Tonks wouldn't be interested in a schoolboy - she'd have the pick of the adult world.

He also reflected back on the previous year - he obviously hadn't been particularly good company a lot of the time, with all his trials and tribulations and the anger that he'd felt; He resolved to be a much less hostile person, especially to his friends. If, as a result, girls were more interested in getting to know the 'real' Harry, well that was something he'd have to deal with when the situation arose.

His reflective mood lasted throughout the early part of the afternoon, as he turned his mind to the Occlumency book Dumbledore had left for him to study in lieu of a tutor. He collected the book from his bedroom, and since the Dursleys all seemed to be out of the house, didn't see any harm in returning to the kitchen table to read it.

As he read the first few chapters of 'Defending your mind', he discovered another reason why he had failed to keep Voldemort's visions out of his mind the previous year, something that Snape had clearly omitted to explain to him.

The book explained that part of learning to defend your mind involved actually identifying that there was an alien presence there in the first place. The author talked him through the first stages of understanding what that presence would feel like, and that there was a common thread to the feeling that the recipient experienced.

However, the specific feeling in each case was unique to the individual mind that was attempting to invade. A skilled Occlumens would be able to perceive differences between individual minds that attacked him and, as their skill increased, would be able to identify the invader simply from the 'feel' of the invading mind.

There would also be a palpable sense of the emotions that the invader was feeling as part of that sense. In the case of Dark Wizards, such as Death Eaters (and therefore, Harry assumed, of Voldemort as well), there would be a fairly strong sense of hate coming through.

What Harry had realised was that, because of the mood that he had been in himself, he hadn't, and probably couldn't have, identified that element of Voldemort's attacks. He decided that this was something he needed to talk to Dumbledore about when next he had an opportunity, or whoever it was that the Headmaster had decided should help him with Occlumency in the future. He had a nagging feeling that there was something further than he should be able to deduce from this information, but just couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was.

At that point, any further ideas of studying were eliminated as Harry heard the back door open, and Dudley's heavy tread making the walls reverberate.

"Oi! Are you still here?" he heard his cousin shout from the bottom of the stairs, no doubt presuming that Harry was upstairs in his room.

He thought about saying 'no', but by the time Harry had raised himself from the kitchen table, Dudley had already found him.

"Who was that bird, then, you were with this morning?"

Dudley had obviously not recognised Tonks from meeting Harry at the station just one week previously, but that wasn't much of a surprise, since she had sported an entirely different look this morning to the bubblegum-pink-haired punk that had met him at Kings Cross.

Harry remembered once again that Tonks had told him that this morning's appearance was how she looked naturally, but didn't have time to dwell on that thought as he was prompted further by a poke in the chest from one of his cousin's oversized fingers.

"She's an Auror," Harry responded evasively.

"A what? You mean like in the Oxford and Cambridge Boat Race?" Dudley asked incredulously.

This stumped Harry for a moment or two, before he realised that Dudley's grammatical skills still hadn't reached the level of the average ten-year-old.

"If you mean 'a rower' or 'an oarsman', then no, not one of those," he replied evenly. "She's like a secret service agent."

Dudley burst into sarcastic laughter. "Yeah, right. I suppose you're gonna tell me she was in disguise."

'Oh, if only you knew' thought Harry, before responding to Dudley's taunt out loud. "Not today, she wasn't."

"Sure, sure," Dudley smirked, pulling out a chair on which to rest. "Still, it's not like she's got much to parade around is it? I mean, I could have her any time I wanted, but she's not my type."

Harry bristled at his cousin's implication.

"You'd have no chance. She'd make mincemeat out of you if you even tried something."

"With those spindly arms and legs?" he taunted. "Not bloody likely! No woman could best me!"

Harry tried very hard to control himself as he felt the anger building up inside. He walked right up to Dudley and quietly drew his wand from his back pocket.

"No," he said in a menacing whisper, "with a spindly little stick like this!" he added, shoving the tip of his wand almost up against the end of Dudley's nose.

Dudley staggered back from Harry and put his hands up in front of his face to protect himself. As he stepped backwards though, his legs were taken out from under him by the chair that he had pulled out, and he fell backwards. Instead of putting a hand out to stop his fall though, he was so scared of Harry's wand that he left his hands in front of his face to protect himself from that perceived threat, and allowed his head to hit the hard wooden leg of the kitchen table, unprotected, promptly knocking himself out.

Of course, that was the moment that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia walked in.

Aunt Petunia took one look at her prone son and promptly dropped three carrier bags of shopping with an almighty shriek.

"Duddy!" she screeched, raising her hands to the sides of her face in horror as the blood drained from her features.

"What the hell have you done to my poor Duddy?" she screamed at Harry. "I leave you alone for half an hour whilst you are consorting with that ... that ... WITCH ... in my back garden, and when I come back I find you like this!"

Aunt Petunia gestured to the mess that Dudley had made of the furniture by tripping over it, and the sight of Harry stood over him, wand in hand.

"I didn't touch him, Aunt Petunia!" Harry protested. "He just fell over!"

"A likely story!" came Uncle Vernon's voice from the doorway. His head appeared around the doorframe and as his eyes took in the sight in front of him his face began to turn a horrible shade of purple.

'That colour really doesn't suit Uncle Vernon,' Harry mused absently, before realising exactly what that particular shade of his face meant.

"GET YOUR WORTHLESS HIDE OUT OF MY HOUSE!" screamed Uncle Vernon, a vein in his forehead starting to throb as his anger reached an all-time peak. Harry wondered idly whether it might burst.

All Harry's efforts over the past week to avoid his Uncle and to prevent winding him up by his mere presence had obviously turned out to be for nought.

Harry looked around in panic. It wasn't his fault - he hadn't intended to hurt Dudley, just scare him a little in retaliation for the nasty things he was suggesting about Tonks. He paused. He was presented with something of a dilemma. What was he supposed to do? He couldn't leave Privet Drive according to Dumbledore - what on earth would happen if the Dursleys forcibly ejected him?

"OUT, I SAY! I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR DAMN MONKEY BUSINESS. HOW DARE YOU ASSAULT MY SON IN MY OWN HOME!"

Harry was offended at this, and his own anger began to rise to match that of his Uncle.

"I told you I DIDN'T TOUCH HIM," Harry spat. "He fell backwards over the chair!"

"I SAID I DIDN'T TOUCH HI-"

"ENOUGH!" came a new and unexpected voice.

Harry and Uncle Vernon both turned to the back door to face the newcomer. Despite being little taller than Harry, and slightly shorter than Uncle Vernon, he commanded their attention, as his poise indicated a man of power, even though a deeply hooded cloak shadowed his face.

"I said, 'enough', Dursley," the man interrupted firmly but quietly, pulling a wand from his sleeve with barely a flick of the wrist. Uncle Vernon scurried backwards, cowed by the mere sliver of wood, and promptly fell over the same chair that Dudley had, landing on top of his son on the floor. He scrambled to his feet and backed away towards the kitchen door.

Harry used the opportunity to steal a closer look at the wizard who had interrupted Uncle Vernon's latest outburst.

As he had already identified the man was of around average height, but from what Harry could make out under his robes, had something of a stocky build. The robes he wore were a deep red colour and his blood-red boots were extremely sturdy looking, a little like Doc Martens, Harry thought.

The man pushed back the hood of his cloak to reveal a calm face, somewhat square jaw, and dark blond hair that had hints of grey in places. He looked to Harry a little older than Uncle Vernon, though significantly younger than the likes of Professor Dumbledore.

"Vernon, Petunia," the man said firmly, "you will not treat Harry as though he is responsible for all your ill-fortune. He has been placed in your care for the benefit of the world as a whole and you have come close to failing the world," he added, ominously.

"I shall deal with you when I return. Harry, come with me."

Harry looked at the man nervously. Whilst grateful for his aid in preventing Uncle Vernon descending yet further into one of his rages, he still wasn't sure that this was a man to be trusted.

"Who are you?" he asked, keeping his wand handy, where he could use it in an emergency.

"A friend," the man answered shortly.

"That's rather a succinct way of putting it. Convince me," Harry insisted.

"Damn it, kid, I just saved your arse, what more do you want?"

"Roll up your left sleeve," Harry ordered nervously, wondering who the strange wizard was and what he was doing in the Dursleys' house.

The man rolled his eyes and then his left sleeve as well. "See," he gestured to his left forearm, "no Dark Mark".

"Just because you don't have the Dark Mark doesn't mean you're trustworthy. Fudge isn't a Death Eater, but for what it's worth he's done just about as much to aid Voldemort's cause over the past year," Harry continued. "Why are you here?"

"Dumbledore sent me. I'm to teach you Occlumency and a few other bits and pieces."

"He didn't mention you to me," Harry continued cautiously. "How can you prove it?"

Harry still had his wand up, and wasn't going to give in until he'd gotten some answers. The man seemed perfectly harmless; after all, he could easily have attempted to cast spells at Harry already if he had any malicious intent.

The man looked around in frustration.

"Alastor, I know you told me he would be difficult to deceive, but this is impossible."

Harry gave the man an odd look, but then realised what was going on as Mad-eye Moody, standing a few feet nearer the back door, revealed himself from under an invisibility cloak.

"Well done, Potter. Not many will get past you," he noted.

Harry gave the retired Auror the once-over. He certainly looked like Moody, but even Dumbledore had been deceived when Crouch Junior had impersonated Moody, using Polyjuice Potion, so he thought he'd better make sure.

"What did you show me the night we celebrated Ron making prefect?" he asked.

Moody chuckled. "Good lad," he said, "never trust anyone."

Harry could see the other man roll his eyes again and heard him mutter the words "Constant Vigilance!" with a snort, as he slipped aside to let Moody past and leaned up against the kitchen wall.

"Aye, lad," Moody agreed, "you'll do well to remember that. Anyway, to answer your question, I showed you a photograph of the original Order of the Phoenix. Satisfied?"

Harry was, but thought he'd try one more, just to make absolutely sure.

"Who accompanied Professor Lupin, Mr Weasley, Tonks and yourself, when you talked to my Aunt and Uncle at the station?"

The strange man muttered something under his breath that sounded something like "The damn boy's paranoid", but Moody took it in his stride. Meanwhile, Uncle Vernon, recognising Moody from the station, froze.

"That would have been Molly Weasley and Hermione Granger," he replied with certainty. "Good question."

Harry smiled. "Okay, now that I'm convinced that you're really Professor Moody, who's your friend?"

The blond-haired man came forward once again and held out his hand for Harry to shake.

"I'm John Christopher and, like I said before, Professor Dumbledore has asked me to help out with some of your tutoring this summer. Is that alright?" he added with a sardonic smile.

"Sure," Harry said, grinning and shaking the proffered hand.

"Good. I was going to deal with this lot later," he said, indicating the Dursleys who were still frozen in fright at the strange men in their kitchen. "But I think we need to have a word now."

John pulled up a kitchen chair and sat down, while Moody dragged Dudley out from underneath the table where he still lay unconscious, and resuscitated him with an enervate spell, then carried him into the living room and laid him on the settee.

"You two," said John, pointing at the elder Dursleys, "sit!"

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia shuffled into seats opposite John, but as far away from him as possible. To add to their nervousness John leaned forward across the kitchen table towards them.

"We're not going to hurt you," he assured them, "but if you don't co-operate we can make your life very difficult. You've made it so easy for us. You're so scared that the neighbours will think you're abnormal for having a wizard in the family, that all we would have to do is perform some unexplainable act of magic where your neighbours could see, and you'd do exactly what we want."

John studied the Dursleys closely.

"How would you react if, say, we turned the grass on your front lawn purple?"

He knew he had hit home by Aunt Petunia's shocked expression.

"You wouldn't!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with fear.

"See, it's so simple. All we ask is that you look after Harry, and provide him with a place to live while he grows up.

"Now, given that Harry was telling the truth about how your son got hurt, I think you owe him an apology."

Strangely this stunned the Dursleys even more than the thought of their front lawn being an unnatural colour. Harry supposed that the concept of them having to apologise for this might be totally alien to them, since they had never apologised to him for anything in nearly fifteen years. He decided to interrupt.

"That's not necessary. I don't need an apology. Let's just get out of here."

John looked up at him in surprise, but saw the determination in Harry's face to be away, and he left it at that.

"Okay then," he said, standing up, "let's go. Alastor, are you coming with us?"

Moody nodded and replaced the invisibility cloak before leading them out the back door, with John and Harry following. Once out in the back garden, John pulled a television remote control out from under his robes and asked them to grab on.

"Portkey?" Harry asked, but was just met with a soft voice muttering "activate".


Many thanks to Aberforth's Avatar for reviewing every chapter so far.